Tomorrow, and tomorrow, and tomorrow,
Creeps in this petty pace from count to count,
To the final audit of recorded time;
All the re-checks have but blighted Trump
And revealed the steal. Out, out, George Soros!
A ballot’s but a walking shadow, a poor player,
That struts and frets his hour upon the stage,
And then is heard no more. It is a vote
Told by an idiot, full of sound and fury,
Signifying nothing.

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